Chapter Eleven

If death took Allison in its clutches at this very moment, she would die having known pure paradise.

No. That was wrong.

Death would have to wait.

If Sloan’s kisses felt this right, this perfect, what would his lovemaking feel like?

Definitely worth living for.

A fire raged from the intensity of his kiss. The blaze spread across her limbs until she thought her legs would buckle. Overwhelming desire washed over her, pushing her to the brink of rational thought and beyond. Instinct guided her through unfamiliar territory. With each passing breath, her confidence grew.

She couldn’t let him know how inexperienced she was. If he thought her unsophisticated, he’d stop the amazing things he was doing.

Her tongue dodged his as it invaded her mouth. She nipped at his bottom lip and pressed her cheek against a two-day growth of beard, reveling in the raw, masculine sensation. When her searching fingers found the edges of his shirt and crept underneath, she felt, rather than heard, a low growl of approval.

At her feather-touch, his abdomen tightened. Her own need emboldened her, pushed her onward. She wanted him closer. Her palms smoothed his warm flesh, and she pressed into his hard body as their kiss deepened.

His touch seared through the material of her shirt, leaving a molten trail of dominion as his hands traveled down her back, inching lower and lower. She strained closer until his obvious arousal crushed against her hips.

She succumbed to the temptation that had taunted her the previous night and finally roamed his corded muscles, stroking silken hair on his chest. Through it all, she drank from his lips.

He coaxed the most primal of responses from her, encouraging her to take all he offered and demanding she give back in return. And give back she did.

She offered Sloan her most prized possession.

She surrendered her heart. And as his hand slipped to her throat and unbuttoned her shirt, she gave him her trust.

He pushed open the shirt and brushed the swell of her breast. Had that feral moan come from her? Light burst behind her closed eyes.

His mouth traversed the column of her neck. She arched into him, granting access for him to trail fiery kisses along the base of her throat. The floor trembled beneath her feet and she swayed, feeling her balance abandon her.

Take me. Now!

“Aunt Allison. The power’s back on.” From somewhere in the distance, Mitchell’s voice penetrated the roar in her ears.

Sloan broke off the kiss. He gripped her by the arms and set her away from him.

She teetered on her feet, eyes closed. A rush of frigid air cooled her burning flesh. She leaned toward him, reaching with all her senses to return to his warmth.

“Allison.” Sloan’s voice was thick and dark. “Allison, look at me.” He shook her slightly.

She opened her eyes.

Unfulfilled passion smoldered in his gaze. “The electricity is back on. You need to go to Mitch.”

The scent of burnt dust reached her nose. The furnace was running once again. “I’m coming,” she called to Mitchell. To Sloan she whispered, “I’ll only be a moment. Don’t go anywhere.” She smiled expectantly at him.

“No.”

Startled from her haze, she stared at the man who’d held her—kissed her until she was delirious with want. His hair was in disarray from being raked by her fingers. His shirt hung open, revealing his rippling torso.

Had she unbuttoned it without even knowing? The nerve endings on her fingertips recalled the feel of his chest. The temptation to brush her hand across taut muscles remained.

“But…”

“Go to Mitch.” Passion receded from his eyes and his clever lips thinned to a determined line.

Her mind cleared. The superheated sensations subsided. What had she done? How could she have given herself away like that? She lowered her gaze in embarrassment, wishing the floor would swallow her.

“Did you hear what I said?” He dropped his hands, adding more distance between them. “Mitch is calling for you.”

She nodded. Mitchell needed her.

Sloan didn’t.

She buttoned her shirt with automatic movements as she numbly walked into the great room. Every light was ablaze. Last night, when the power had gone out, she hadn’t thought to turn off the switches. The fire didn’t beckon as warmly as it had the night before. It certainly wasn’t needed now that the rumbling furnace blew warm air into the chilly corners of the old house.

Mitchell was sitting up in his sleeping bag, looking bleary-eyed. “The power is on, but do I have to go to my room? Can I sleep out here?”

She thought about what had happened between her and Sloan with her nephew in the next room. What had her wanton abandon cost her? Her self-control was in shreds, littered at Sloan’s feet. She knew from the way he’d pushed her away, he didn’t want any part of her.

For her peace of mind, and to save her further embarrassment, it might be best if Mitchell slept downstairs. His presence would act as a sentinel against her lack of discipline.

“Sure.” She gave him a wan smile. “You can stay here. As long as you get up in time for school.”

“I promise.” Mitchell tilted his head and stared at her. “Are you okay?”

She tried for a better smile, hoping to hide her tattered emotions. Her nephew was a bit too perceptive for his age. “I’m just a little tired.”

“You and Sloan could sleep out here with me, like last night. It’ll be fun.”

She shook her head. “Now that the power is on, I need to get back to work on the program.” She would finish the script and get it to Tom. With her obligation fulfilled, Sloan would leave for L.A. Then she could mend her broken armor.

Mitchell yawned. “Okay.” He lay down his head.

“Sleep tight.” Allison zipped up the sleeping bag a couple of inches as Mitchell snuggled inside.

She turned out the lights and walked back into the kitchen, frustrated and disappointed at the turn of events. But more than that, she was humiliated. She wondered what Sloan thought when she threw herself at him. She couldn’t even explain her actions to herself. Maybe some stray carbon monoxide poisoned her brain.

Sloan sat at the table, staring at the blackness beyond the kitchen window.

“I’ll make some coffee.” She crossed to the cupboard and pulled out two cups. “Then I’ll get to work on the trace program.” She tried not to look at him while she prepared the strong brew. She wanted to know what he was thinking, but in the stark light of reality, she was afraid the answer would be too painful to bear.

Regardless, now was the time for clarity. No more fantasies.

****

Sloan studied Allison’s stiff back as she stood at the kitchen counter. The cyborg had returned. He was exhausted trying to keep up with her changing moods. Tension built at the base of his neck while a dull throb pulsed near his temple. He knew tonight’s change in her was his fault and he accepted the headache as punishment, but he wasn’t about to concede the battle and give in to her charms. It had taken all his willpower to push her away when Mitch called out.

His usual command of the situation had vanished the moment Allison’s lips touched his. He was still struggling for equilibrium after the whirlwind ride she’d taken him on.

There were no rules that said seducing the enemy was forbidden. But on a gut level, he knew what he’d done was wrong. He lost all objectivity when it came to Allison. He’d be better off getting in his car and finding a hotel; but his duty to O’Neal dictated that he stay close enough to watch her every move, no matter what it did to his sanity. The assignment came first. “Why don’t you get started?” he said quietly. “I’ll bring the coffee in when it’s ready.”

Allison stabbed the button on the coffee maker. She didn’t look at him or speak as she left the kitchen. That stung, but it was better for both of them if she stayed angry. Yeah, how many times would he have to repeat that to himself before he believed it?

When he carried two steaming mugs of coffee into the office, Allison was wearing those damn glasses again. He knew she needed them, but after watching those incredible blue eyes, he hated to see them covered.

He put a mug within reach of her left hand and sat down in the chair next to the desk.

“Thank you.” She lifted the mug and took a sip.

He could tell her mind was already engrossed with the program. It was his duty to observe.

While he watched her hands fly over the keyboard—her careful assessment of the data—he wondered how she turned off her emotions like flipping a switch. Not more than fifteen minutes ago, she had been the most passionate woman he’d ever held in his arms. Now she was an automaton, fingers moving robotically, stopping briefly before moving on to the next line of code.

To Sloan, the screens all looked the same. He didn’t understand what she was doing. Sure, some of the words were in normal English text, but the order in which she placed words next to numbers and random letters, breaks with quotes and brackets, made it look like a foreign language.

He remembered the file name she’d shown him yesterday. The other side of the screen displayed program code generated by the trace. He looked for patterns—a cipher to decrypt the gibberish. Eventually, he was able to discern sequences of lines, even though he didn’t know how to interpret what he was seeing. Was this enough to prove Allison was the hacker? If Tom saw these screens, would he be able to verify Allison’s guilt? Or was it possible she was covering her tracks, even as he watched?

Her lips were still slightly swollen from his kisses. The stubborn line of her mouth convinced him that if she was the real hacker Northstar was doomed—and if she wasn’t, the real criminal didn’t stand a chance. By the determination on her face, she was not about to be beaten.

Her fingers tapped out more lines of data, then stopped. She bit her lip deep in thought.

He recalled her taste, and warmth spread to his groin.

With a quick movement that didn’t even break Allison’s concentration, he stood and headed for the kitchen.

****

Allison briefly closed her eyes when Sloan left the room. Good. Stay away. How could she be expected to do her job while those smoky eyes watched every move she made? Unlike the night before, his spicy aftershave invaded her senses to the point she wanted to immerse herself inside him and never come out.

She didn’t have to guess what was wrong with her. She knew. She had completely, without condition, fallen in love with Sloan Cartland. One crook of his finger, one come-hither look, and her self-control deleted from her body. She wanted him so badly, she would welcome any advance.

Yet he kept his distance. She didn’t understand why. Wasn’t he the seducer? She’d literally thrown herself at him. What more of an invitation did he need?

Had her scars turned him off? She dismissed the thought. Turning out the light would hide her scars. Besides, he wouldn’t care about the disfigurement unless he was interested in a long-term commitment. Which he wasn’t.

Who was she kidding? Her lack of experience tipped him off. She didn’t have the sophistication to please him. She would never be in his league. If he hadn’t been trapped in her house, he’d have been long gone. It was humiliating to know she wasn’t attractive enough for a one-night stand.

To salvage her pride, she had to finish the program. Send him packing before she made a bigger fool of herself.

The computer screen flickered, mocking her inability to concentrate. The program demanded her attention now. She backtracked through the last few lines of her work and swore when she found a mistyped syntax. She was screwing up the job. With a deep breath, she ignored Sloan’s lingering scent and blocked everything out of her mind. It was a hard-won skill, practiced everyday since the shooting, but she could do it. She refused to fail this time.

For the next three hours, Sloan considerately placed cups of hot coffee within her reach. Her subconscious was aware of him checking on her and then on Mitchell, but she refused to let his presence interrupt her work. He was there, part of the scenery, but not part of her world. Not anymore.

Finally, she sat back and rolled her shoulders. Sloan was off to the side of the desk with his legs stretched in front of him and arms folded across his chest, eyes closed. When she moved, he opened them.

“It’s done.” She pointed at the screen.

He didn’t reply, so Allison continued, “I need some rest. I’ll review my work in the morning.”

“Why can’t you send it to Tom now? Let him review it.”

She bristled at his tone. “I will not let a first draft leave my desk. Tom will get it when I’ve looked it over with fresh eyes.” She set the computer in sleep mode and stood.

“What if the power goes out again and you can’t look it over?”

Doubt crossed her mind, but she dismissed it. “It won’t. The storm’s over.”

“Fine.” Sloan stood and looked at the computer. “We deliver the program in the morning.”

Allison watched him stride out of the office. He’d given in too quickly. That wasn’t the way they used to interact. His indifference hurt more than his biting comments. At least those she could counter. Now that they weren’t talking, she had nothing to battle.

As she turned off the office light, she hoped she was right about the power. The kitchen was dark and tidy. Sloan’s sleeping bag rustled in the living room, where he’d chosen to spend the night. With a heavy heart, but somewhat shielded again, she climbed the stairs to her bedroom.

****

When Sloan opened his eyes the next morning, the first thing he noticed was his headache hadn’t improved through the night. The sound of running water and clanking dishes reverberated in his brain like a jackhammer.

The night had been long. When he had slept, which was damned little, visions of a tall, slender brunette invaded his dreams. She reached for him with open arms. He’d gone willingly and when those arms closed around him, a knife plunged in his back.

Was it betrayal, or payback for not trusting her? He didn’t know. If it was payback, he couldn’t blame her. Even in his dreams, he carried doubt about her guilt. All the evidence he had seen with his own eyes was circumstantial. If it weren’t for O’Neal’s direct order, Sloan would demand that she explain all the things he had seen.

What if this gut feeling was wrong and she wasn’t innocent? If he said anything, she still had opportunity to alert other associates. No. He had to play this out. He had to follow his orders, but he didn’t have to like it.

Mitch’s sleeping bag was rolled up. Sounds of breakfast came from the kitchen. Even after all the coffee he’d had last night, Sloan was more than ready for a cup.

“Hey. You’re up.” Mitch gave a toothy grin when Sloan walked into the kitchen. “The roads are clear, so I have to get ready for school. The bus will be here soon.”

Sloan finished buttoning his shirt and grabbed his cup from last night. “Where’s your aunt?”

“Taking a shower.” Mitch finished his breakfast with a slurp of milk from the bowl. “She was up early working in the office. She said to let you sleep.”

If the buses were running, that meant they could leave for Los Angeles today and join the task force. All he had to do was make sure Allison was there, too. Watching Mitch rinse out his bowl gave him an idea. Probably the worst idea he’d ever had, but it might work.

He hesitated. What he said and did in the next few moments would rock this little boy’s world. But if handled right, maybe any long-term emotional damage could be avoided. “Hey Mitch.”

The kid looked expectantly at him.

Sloan steeled himself against those trusting eyes. “How would you like to go to Los Angeles with me?”

“You mean it?” Mitch’s whole face lit up. “That’d be great. Do you think Aunt Allison will let me?”

“Well, she’s the reason I need you to come along. You see, I really need your aunt’s help, and our director wants her in L.A. She doesn’t think she should go because she promised your mom she’d take care of you. But if you came along, she’d be able to help me, and keep her promise at the same time.”

Mitch frowned. “My mom might not like me leaving. Who’d watch the house?”

“We’ll make sure it’s locked up.” He took a sip of coffee. “You’ll only be gone for a day. Maybe two at the most.”

The kid appeared to digest the information. “If we were only gone a day or two, we’d be back before Mom and Dad got home.”

“That’s right.”

“That should be okay.” Mitch put the box of cereal away. “I’d love to go with you guys.”

“I was hoping you’d see it that way.” Sloan took a breath and brazened on with the next issue. “Do you think you can convince your aunt that school won’t be an issue?”

Mitch’s shoulders sagged. “Probably not. She’s really strict about school. But you could talk her into it.”

“What makes you think I can?” He and Allison weren’t even on speaking terms right now.

Mitch gave a sheepish grin. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you.” He glanced over his shoulder, then leaned in with a whisper. “I’ve never seen Aunt Allison look at anybody like that.”

A jolt thudded against Sloan’s ribs. The giddy sensation lifted his headache fog. Last night, in the dark kitchen, Allison had come to him with soft, tentative kisses. He’d been suspicious of her motives. Was he wrong about her? Could Allison have genuine feelings for him? Was her kiss her way of showing she cared for him?

Then Sloan remembered what he was doing and felt sick. He was using Allison’s nephew to manipulate her into coming to L.A., where she would be arrested for betraying Northstar. The plan had already been set on track. He couldn’t allow personal feelings to interfere. This was his double cross, and out of loyalty to O’Neal, he had to bear it.

Allison entered the kitchen as Sloan drained his cup. He wondered how she could look as though she’d had eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. Especially after she’d spent a good portion of the night staring at her computer. Before him stood the woman he knew from work, not the siren who’d invaded his dreams. Exactly how did she compartmentalize her emotions?

“Sloan’s taking us to Los Angeles today.” Mitch’s announcement stopped her in her tracks.

Her eyes narrowed and she glared at Sloan. He was pretty sure this was not the look Mitch had been referring to.

“We can’t. You have school.”

“He’ll only miss one day.” Sloan pointed out.

“Puleeaasse, Aunt Allison. Mom and Dad won’t care if they know I’m with you. We’ll lock up the house and everything. Besides, your boss wants you there.”

She glared at Sloan. “What exactly did you tell him?”

“The truth. I think he’ll have fun.” Sloan cringed at the lie. Mitch would never forgive him for what would happen to his aunt. But he had to get Allison to L.A. If using her nephew as leverage would accomplish that goal—and it was evident Allison couldn’t deny Mitch anything—then as much as Sloan hated it, he would use the leverage.

“Yeah, think of my real-life schooling.” Mitch played the education card like a pro. “My first trip to California and I get to fly on a jet. We could go to the beach when you’re done.” Hope gleamed from the boy’s eyes.

“No beaches.” Allison shook her head emphatically.

“Does that mean we’re going?”

Allison glanced at her nephew’s hopeful face and then glared at Sloan. He could sense her internal wrestling match.

“Catching the hacker will go much quicker if you’re there.” Sloan wasn’t above playing his own card to stroke her ego. “You know you want to be in on it.” He added the last, betting that if she was the hacker she’d want to see O’Neal’s face when she got her revenge. And if she wasn’t the hacker… He swallowed. He really hoped she wasn’t.

Allison glanced from Sloan to Mitch. “When will the two of you stop ganging up on me?”

Sloan wondered if he looked as surprised as he felt. She’d capitulated much faster than he expected. Mitch yelled and started a victory dance.

“Only for a day or two,” she cautioned. “First, we stop at the school to excuse you and drop off your history report. You will do any extra make-up assignments your teachers give you. Got it?” She gave both Mitch and Sloan a don’t-argue-with-me look.

Mitch grinned and nodded. “I’m gonna go pack my stuff right now.” He ran out of the kitchen.

When Mitch was out of earshot, Allison turned on Sloan. “That was unfair and you know it. I worked all night. I reviewed the program this morning and uploaded it onto the FTP site for Tom. I’m not trained for fieldwork. There is no reason for me to go to L.A. and expose Mitchell to danger. I’m sure O’Neal will understand.”

“This isn’t a typical field operation. Mitch won’t be in any danger. O’Neal wants you with the team. It will be just like you’re back at Northstar doing your magic with computers.” Sloan set his cup on the counter. “Think of it like one of those take-your-kid-to-work days. He’ll get a kick out of it, you’ll see.”

Allison looked doubtful.

Sloan swallowed to hide his internal turmoil. He had no idea why she gave in so easily. It didn’t bode well for her innocence. In a couple more days, it would all be over. If she was guilty, he’d never see her again. If she wasn’t… Well, she’d never forgive him.

Silence hung in the warm kitchen air. He felt the blood from a thousand little cuts of betrayal fill his gut and wondered if the sting showed on his face.

Then her gaze shifted away and she started to clean up breakfast.

He was congratulating himself on one of the best acting jobs of his career when she spoke again.

“You’re up to something, Sloan Cartland. I don’t know what. But I’m going to find out.”